


How Can I Cope Without You Here?

by metalhawk



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Character Death, Death of Optimus Prime, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sparkbonds, Well of All Sparks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:51:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalhawk/pseuds/metalhawk
Summary: Ratchet felt as if his entire world was crumbling. In a way, it was. Optimus Prime was Ratchet's world. And now it was being taken away from him in front of his very optics.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Ratchet felt as if his entire world was crumbling. In a way, it was. Optimus Prime was Ratchet's world. And now it was being taken away from him in front of his very optics. 

 

Optimus stood at the edge of the well, his face calm as he gave a speech Ratchet couldn't bare to hear. He just studied the Prime's beautiful optics, the ones he had stared into vorns ago the first time he met Orion Pax. Stared into before and after his first kiss with the archivist. Stared into in relaxing nights in berth, wrapped in Optimus's huge arms, hearing the steady beat of his spark. 

 

Ratchet could barely contain the amount of pain and overwhelming despair he was sending through his sparkbond with Optimus. His conjunx sent calm in response, but the act was fruitless. Ratchet tried and failed to calm his erratic breathing and sparkbeat, but to no avail. 

 

Then the Prime turned, giving Ratchet a small smile. 

 

" _No_ ." Ratchet said, quietly. His voice was shaky. Optimus flew up into the air and swiftly pointed his trajectory straight into the well. 

 

_Optimus!_ He sent frantically through the bond.  _Optimus, please !_

 

_My beloved,_ Optimus said simply. _Goodbye, Ratchet…_

Ratchet felt the bond slipping. He felt Optimus drifting ever closer to the end of his life. He felt like he was down there, dying right alongside the Prime. 

 

_Optimus __!_ He yelled again for his conjunx, both in the bond and aloud. He ran towards the edge of the well, though he doesn't see anything. _Please – I love you !_

 

_I love you, dearest~ _ Optimus Prime said at last, before his side of the bond went completely dark. 

 

It was a terrible feeling. Having Ratchet's spark ripped from its chamber in the most violent of ways would've hurt less than this. A sharp, widespread ache spread through his body. Ratchet sobbed, his entire frame shaking until he thought it might explode. Lubricant fell shamelessly onto the smooth rim of the Well, and he was so close that some fell inside the Well itself. 

 

Wheeljack had run over and pulled him away from the edge as it began to...explode? Ratchet couldn't tell through his bleary optics, and he didn't even have the energy to reboot them. 

 

A huge, bright, red spark that Ratchet knew all too well emerged from the Well, along with what Ratchet realized were millions of others. It spiraled towards the rest of the Autobots, then-

 

\- it nudged Ratchet's spark from over his armour. His own spark clung to the walls of his chassis, trying desperately to get closer to it. He cradled it in his shaking servos, sobbing harder. 

 

_You forever have my spark_ , it said, _ I will love you always, my angel . _

 

Ratchet found himself smiling, but it's weak and sad. He whispers: "I will love you always, Orion."

 

Then the spark drifted away. But it — Optimus — was right. Ratchet did carry tiny pieces of Optimus's spark within him, because of the many times they've bonded. 

 

But that never could lessen the pain. It wasn't the same as having Optimus here, by his side. 


	2. A Visit

Ratchet sat in the kitchen of the temporary Autobot base. It was barren, equipped with only stacks of Energon not yet stashed into the cabinets, and a couple of bar stools where Ratchet now sat, dejectedly looking down at his cup of high grade Energon. He had yet to even take a sip.

 

"As assistant medical officer," an arrogant voice said, "I would suggest you get some rest."

 

"And how exactly do you expect me to do that?" Ratchet asked the glory car.

 

"Well, I would say close your eyes first..." Knockout says

 

Ratchet can't. Every time his optics close, even if it seems to be for only an astrosecond, he is pained with images of Optimus's bright spark, the light still burned into the circuitry of his processor.

 

"I can't sleep after watching my conjunx die!" Ratchet yelled suddenly, slamming his fists on the table and resting his helm between them. It hurt to say the word, finally say that Optimus is dead, hurt to even think it.

 

"I know," Knockout says, to Ratchet's surprise.

 

"You are implying that you had a conjunx?" Ratchet asks, finally picking his helm up from the table.

 

"Yes," Knockout replies, pulling out some high grade energon and drinking it. "Breakdown."

 

"I wasn't aware the you and Breakdown were so closely acquainted," Ratchet said.

 

"Well, not even Megatron knew, so that's not much of a surprise," Knockout says. He sighs. "When Breakdown died, I felt the exact same way you probably do. It felt terrible. At least his death was quick; I didn't hear anything from him, only the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. I bet this was much worse though."

 

"I'm sorry," Ratchet said. "And, I think you saw how bad it was, not to cancel out your own pain."

 

"Eh, not like any thing can change what happened. Of course I still miss him..." he started to change the subject, as Ratchet saw hints of lubricant in his optics and a small wave of grief in his field. "Seriously, get some sleep."

 

"You're one to talk," Ratchet said. "Why are you even still awake?"

 

"This place is too...comfy. I'm too used to the looming threat of some physco murder from the Nemesis."

 

"I can't say I can relate."

 

"Of course not," Knockout says, then stands. "I'm going to stare at the ceiling. You should come too."

 

Ratchet sighs, then follows after Knockout. They each disappear into their separate rooms, their fallen conjunxes still on their minds.

 

Ratchet falls into the berth, the sheets cold and empty without Optimus beside him.

 

"Optimus, I wish you were here..." he whispers. "I love you..."

 

 


	3. The Speech

A speech. They want him to write a speech. And present it. In front of the increasingly large population of Cybertron. At the ceremony for a statue of his conjunx, a mech he still cries for every night.

"Ratchet," Arcee says. "Come on. You were the closest person to Optimus. Nobody else knew him like you did."

"Fine," Ratchet shakes his head. "How many cycles do I have to write it?"

Arcee's faceplate visibly drops. "...until tonight."

"What?!" Ratchet stares in disbelief at her. "You managed to hold off on asking me until now?!"

She shifts. "We already had the date for the opening ceremony, and the speech wasn't added until hours ago!"

Ratchet puts his head in his hands.

"But," she says, "I'm sure you'll be okay, Ratch. You've always known what to say."

Then she pats his arm and walks out.

Ratchet gets to work.   
__________

Everything Ratchet writes seems terrible. Either too cheesy or too boring, something that just sound right or a detail so intimate that Ratchet doesn't necessarily want to share.

A knock on his door. "Ratchet?" It's Knockout.

Ratchet grumbles, deleting another draft of the speech. "Come in."

The red mech enters his dark berthroom, buffer in hand.

"What's that for?" Ratchet asks, frowning. "I don't need buffed."

"I think you do. You need to look nice for the ceremony, don't you?"

"I suppose," Ratchet says, pushing aside the datapad, "the entire population will be there, after all."

Knockout switches on the lights, and peers at the ambulance's face. "The paint is deteriorating under your optics."

Shedding lubricant as much as I have tends to do that, he wants to say. But he bites his golossa.

"Well, I'll fix that up later. Let's just focus on buffing you up," Knockout says, sitting on a chair next to Ratchet. He grabs his arm, slowly pushing the medical tool over the graying paint. It leaves the paint looking pristine in its wake, and Ratchet finally realizes how much he's been neglecting his health with Optimus gone.

"See? I told you," the red car says.

Ratchet is silent for the rest of the cosmetic session.   
________

Nightfall soon arrives, and Ratchet has no more than two and a half words written on his new draft. Arcee comes to pick him up, and even though he has nothing planned to say, he goes with her.

Many mechs already gather at the base of the statue. It is covered by a large sheet of cloth, but Ratchet knew Optimus well enough to know exactly what it will look like.   
  
It is a statue that is planned to accompany thirteen others, the rest of the Primes, but this is the first one. It is only fit for the hero of Cybertron to have a statue made first.

It isn't long before a grand announcement is made, and the cloth surrounding the statue is slowly pulled down. It is made of smooth bronze that glimmers in the soft glow of the stars. The crowd cheers wildly at the marvel of art, and Ratchet's optics trace each inch of the Prime, holding his gaze on the stoic face. He feels the lubricant well up in his optics, and immediately shoves it down, looking away from the Prime and at the shiny marble floor beneath his pedes.

And to Ratchet's astonishment, he sees the one thing he's been longing for staring —smirking— right back at him. His conjunx's face shows on the pitch black marvel, face holding a rare smile aimed straight at him. Then the image fades, Ratchet's mouth still hanging open in astonishment.

His spark aches, his helm spins, and the medic runs several diagnostic scans on himself to make sure he is not falling into insanity from grief. But there is nothing wrong. Ratchet simply shakes his head, Optimus's image still on his processor.

"And now we would like to thank Optimus Prime's conjunx and bonded, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet."

Low murmurs of sympathy waft throughout the crowd as Ratchet makes his way to the small podium. He steps up onto it, and meets the gaze of each of his former comrades, trying to reassure himself. They nod him on.

"Many of you knew Optimus Prime: a brave warrior who would, and has, sacrificed everything for the fate of Cybertron. The Last of the Primes. Some knew him better than others..." he again glanced at the rest of Team Prime. "...but nobody had known Optimus as intimately as I had," he glances at Arcee, who'd said the same thing. "because I knew the mech beneath the worn armour and wise faceplates, the weaponry and the Matrix of Leadership. I knew Orion Pax. An archivist, happily working in the Iacon Hall of Records."

Ratchet knew it was selfish, but sometimes, on missions when Optimus had been captured, injured or otherwise, he wished it had stayed that way. Wished Orion had never become Optimus. Again, it was selfish. But Ratchet couldn't bring himself to regret such wishes.

"And, Primus, I never would've thought we would end up here. Optimus making the ultimate sacrifice for the future of Cybertron, something which never should've been endangered in the first place—" Ratchet didn't know where he was going with this. Words seemed to just spew from his vocalizer. "—but we must all take a moment to appreciate that. Optimus Prime was my everything," Ratchet said, beginning to choke up. His optics watered and his vocalizer fritzed. "And I can only hope that you have the decency to carry the flame of his spark into the generations he gave his life for."

Then he left the podium, and the crowd, hustling back to the apartment building and failing to hear the reaction of the crowd.

______________  
Ratchet awakes with his circuits overworked and crackling. His entire body is taunt as he slowly remembers the disturbance.

Another attack on the accounts of post traumatic stress disorder. Him standing helpless as Optimus flies himself into the Well. Ratchet had been crying, he guesses, as he rubs his optics and they come back smeared with blue lubricant.

He stands up, old joints creaking and rumbling without a loving conjunx to work out their kinks and stress points. He walks over to the nightstand, where a forgotten Energon cube sits, abandoned by the mirror.

His optical gaze meets that of the mirror, and he sees how worn he truly is. Dimmed optics, disgustingly dim spark, and just the overall look of depression and grief he feels by simply staring at himself.

Optimus appears again! Ratchet knows he isn't hallucinating, or at least he doesn't think he is. This time the Prime looks sad, sympathetic, and seems as if he wants desperately to pull Ratchet into his arms and never let go.

Ratchet feels precisely the same way. He wants to say something, but the fluids drain from his mouth and his vocalizer is unresponsive.

Then, the image is gone, returning to either Ratchet's grieving mind or to the corpse lying in the Well of the Allsparks.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Reunion

Optimus Prime goes into his battle stance, weapons ready and battle mask on. He stares at the silhouette creeping through the woods, clearly Cybertronian but unidentifiable in such dark conditions. Optimus peers to look at it, optics magnifying.

A foreign feeling suddenly spreads through this spark and chassis, one he hasn't felt in such a long time. His spark aches to grasp at that forgotten feeling.

That is, until it isn't so foreign anymore.

Things snap into place quickly. A strong rush of joy, disbelief and love explodes across Optimus's EM field. The familiarity of the intruder's own field, the faint alarm drifting across a bond only barely reactivated.

"It's you!" He gasps, battle mask retracting quickly and weapons dropping at the speed of light. "Ratchet!"

"Optimus," the voice is only a whisper, shaky but so easily recognizable to him. "This...it can't be."

"It's me, old friend," Optimus bites back tears. A watery smile lights up the Prime's face.

At once they crash into each other, arms wrapped around the other so tightly that denting ensues. Deep sighs of relief come from Optimus, while Ratchet can't contain his sobs of joy.

"How...?" Ratchet asks. "N-nevermind. I missed you so much, Optimus."

Optimus kisses Ratchet's cheek. "I missed you too, dearest Ratchet."

They lean their foreheads against each other for a moment, trying to make sure the other is real. The others have the decency to leave them alone, even Sideswipe, who'd grown up hearing stories of Cybertron's sweethearts, the (not-so) deceased Optimus Prime and Chief Medical Officer Ratchet.

Then, after reunions have been issued, they drive back to the Scrapyard. One could see the semitruck driving beside the ambulance, EM fields alive with happiness and deep love, bonds active and sharing peaceful thoughts and heartfelt "I love you"s.

Sorrows have been lifted, the years of grieving and suffering, crying and heartbreak, are finally over.

The conjunx endurae of Cybertron, completely and utterly in love, deeply cared for by each other.

They are finally home.

  


 


End file.
